


And on the Seventh Day, He Rested

by lillypillylies



Category: Wire in the Blood
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillypillylies/pseuds/lillypillylies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It's been a very long day, Alex. And I'm not all right."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And on the Seventh Day, He Rested

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mammothluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/gifts).



> This is set following the last episode of the series, 'The Dead Land'.

Day 1

He doesn't quite follow the sequence of events that bring him back here to the station. People move around him, people speak to him, someone brings him a coffee - thank the almighty, the coffee, at least, he registers with clarity. 

He's in shock, probably, he thinks.

Slowly he becomes aware of Paula beside him, moments before she sticks her mobile under his nose. 

"Medics have already looked him over," she's saying, her one-sided conversation beginning to filter through. "Yes, guv, D.I. Hall's on top of it. Yeah, I'll see to it. No, I've got him right here, want me to put him on?"

He takes the phone; doesn't need to ask. "Alex."

There's a heavy exhale that precedes his name falling from her lips. "Tony. Paula's filled me in. Are you all right? Stupid question, I know, 'course you're not all right."

"Oh, I'm all right. I'm alive."

"Thank god for that. I saw it on the news first. I called and you weren't picking up."

"Oh, sorry about that, the insane murderer didn't let me hang onto my phone when he was abducting me."

"Yeah, and I'm so glad you made it out of there in one piece I don't even mind you snapping my head off."

"It's been a very long day, Alex. And I'm not all right."

"I know."

"But it's good to hear your voice."

"I'm sorry I'm not there. I can drive down if you -"

"No, no. We're both where we need to be right now. It's all over, here, anyway."

"Bar the paperwork?"

"Blimey, you're not wrong. Oh, did I mention? The replacement D.I. read psychology, at Oxford."

"Oxford, hm?"

"Exactly."

"Listen, you call me, all right? If you need anything."

"That should be my line."

"It's all over here, too, bar the paperwork."

 

Day 2

He doesn't leave home. He takes the phone off the hook. He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long time, counting the bruises around his neck.

It's very quiet in his flat, and it's very noisy in his head. 

He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He doesn't even talk to himself - something of a first. Only, he's afraid of what he might say.

 

Day 3

He goes out. He talks to people. When he comes back, he sends Alex a text: _I've got a new mobile._

Then another, thirty seconds later: _By the way, this is Tony._

She calls back in just a few minutes. 

"Hey, how you doing? You all right?"

"Yeah, mmhmm. Went to the phone store. Went to the station. More paperwork, both places."

"I talked to Paula again. Jesus, Tony."

"Oh, she fill you in on all the gory details?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, let's see. And how are you?"

"Tony -"

"Come on, Alex, you can read all about it in the report when you get back. Till then, I'd rather be distracted. How are you feeling?"

"How am _I_ feeling?" She just blows out a breath and laughs a short, humourless laugh. 

He waits her out. She'll talk to him eventually, she always does. 

"Yeah, all right, I'm feeling... terrible. Heartbroken. And Ben, you know, he's - he's old enough to be really affected. He's hurting and I don't know that I'm much good to him right now."

"Of course you are - you're there with him, that's all he needs. And you should let him be a comfort to you, that'll help you both."

"I just feel guilty. Ben loved his nan, loved to come up for visits. I should have made sure he got to spend more time with her, and it's too late now."

"He's old enough to grieve, and he's also old enough to have clear, sustained memories of her. He'll keep those for the rest of his life."

"I suppose that's something. You know, when I had him, Ben, it didn't go well. I was in the hospital for hours and hours, but the labour was stalled and I wasn't getting anywhere. And then they come in and tell me the foetal heart-rate is dropping, which means the baby's in danger and they have to get him out right away."

"You had a c-section?" 

"Yeah. I'd been at it all day and half the night, and then suddenly everything happened all at once... My family were all there that day, but they only allow the father to go in with you to the operating theatre. And Gabe, you know, he was mostly useless, sat there crying. I just lay there staring up at the lights, helpless and terrified out of my mind, and I remember thinking - _god_ , I wish my mum was here." 

"Oh, Alex."

There's a pause, and then she sighs. "Anyway, been feeling a bit like that lately. Like, what's she doing being dead when we all need her here to get us through this?"

"Well, you'll get through it together. You and Ben, and your dad..."

"It's all different, though, being back home without her here. She was a nurse before she got married and had us kids, she was always good in difficult situations. Always took care of everybody."

"Ah, so that's where you learned it."

He can hear the smile in her voice the next time she speaks. "Never thought I'd be so flattered, being compared to my mother. Used to be, it would have been my worst nightmare. We didn't always get on when I was growing up - typical teenage nonsense - now I just wonder how she put up with me, and if I'm in for the same with Ben in a few years." 

There's another pause, longer. He wonders if she knows how he's hanging on her every word. 

"Tony? Is this helping?"

Ah. Of course she knows. "Is it helping you?" he returns.

"A bit, yeah."

"Same here. It's good to talk about something normal."

"My grieving process is normal?"

"Completely average, I'm afraid."

"That's reassuring, thanks."

"Grieving for a loved-one is the most normal thing in the world. You'll be fine, Alex."

"What would I do without my therapist?"

"Am I? Yours, I mean." 

The distance, the slight impersonality a phonecall provides, makes him bold, while it makes her hesitate.

"Tony?"

"Yes, Alex?"

"Don't go getting abducted by any more serial killers before I get back, all right?"

"Oh, I'll do my best. But then, I always do."

 

Day 4

"Hello? Tony?"

"Hello - wait, who's this? Did I dial wrong? Can't have, I've only got two numbers programmed in so far. Alex, and the Indian takeaway. Which are you, then?"

There's a laugh, and Ben says, "This is Ben, Mum's still in bed. I'm not supposed to answer her phone, but she's left it on the table and I saw your name on the screen. Do you want to talk to her? I can wake her up."

"No, that's all right, don't wake her. It's early, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm the only one up, even before Grandda, and he always gets up early. I'm watching cartoons."

"Oh, good idea. Which channel?"

He leaves the kitchen where he'd been making coffee, and goes and flops on the lounge, reaching for the remote.

He stays on the line, watching cartoons with Ben and racking up an enormous call charge until suddenly Ben's laughter is replaced by a different voice. 

"How long have you two been up?"

"Good morning, Alex. And it's only been two Spongebobs and one Invader Zim."

"Better your phone bill than mine - least, I hope so. You didn't call Tony, did you, Ben?"

"No," he hears Ben's disjointed reply. "I saw his name on the screen, that's why I answered."

"I called you, Alex. Early morning telly with Ben was an excellent substitute. We both needed a little company." 

"Good, then. You probably got more out of the cartoons than I would have."

"Don't knock it till you try it. Excellent therapy, children's programming. It's all a healing process, Alex."

"Spongebob."

"Yep."

"I hate Spongebob."

"Put Ben back on the phone, then."

With a laugh, she does.

 

Day 5

He dials and closes his eyes tight, face screwed up as he knocks the top of the phone against his forehead even as he hears her voice answer.

It's late. He's had a bit to drink. Not enough, not nearly enough, but enough to say this when she picks up the phone.

"All right, all right, I'm angry. I am so angry, Alex."

To her credit, she barely skips a beat, even though her voice sounds slightly thickened as if he might have woken her. "Well, you've every right to be. You shouldn't have had to go through that. Michael should never have got out, and he should never have got to you."

"But maybe it's better this way. I'm certainly not sorry I killed him, because now he'll never escape again, never kill again. He'll never be my patient again. It's a weight off my shoulders."

"Is it?"

"Yes. That one's gone, a new one in its place. But this one will be easier to bear in the long run."

"I hope so."

"Look, I have to go. I'm too angry to have a proper conversation. I'll call you again when I don't feel this way anymore."

"You don't have to wait that long. I don't care that you're going through something difficult, I don't care if you can't talk about it yet, I just want you to keep talking to me."

His heart feels a little lighter, her warmth and steady strength a balm to his battered psyche. The trouble is it's not what he needs right now. He needs the anger, it's all that's keeping him together - for today, at least. He'll see how he feels tomorrow.

"Tony, for what it's worth, I'm certainly not sorry you killed him, either."

"Thank you, Alex. Bye."

 

Day 6

He's in the Tesco car park, juggling two bags of groceries, his keys, a coffee, and his mobile, the screen of which he's trying to read because there's a text from Alex. She's just checking in, with a reminder - more of an order, really - for him to call her. 'When you're ready' is tacked on there but lacks sincerity, he feels. She's not the most patient of women, his Alex.

He stands there by his car, staring amused down at his phone, and wondering if he should call now or later once he's home. Maybe after dinner. Quickly he realises that no, he doesn't want to wait. He never wants to wait to hear her voice, and on the heels of this revelation comes the thought that maybe she feels the same about him. _When you're ready,_ notwithstanding.

Something has to give.

The keys, coffee, and one of the bags - of course it's the one with the eggs - land on the pavement.

She picks up on the first ring. "Heya."

"When are you coming home?"

"Tony?"

"When, Alex?"

"We'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh. I've dropped my coffee. And my eggs. I was going to make Spanish omelet tonight." He stares down at the mess at his feet, his mind racing miles and miles away, over the border to the north and to her. "Can I see you? Tomorrow, I mean. Or any day, for that matter. What day is it tomorrow?"

"Sunday. Why don't you come over for tea? I'll get eggs. You bring the wine - if you can manage not to drop it."

"No promises."

But there's a promise in her soft laugh, and there's something similar growing in his mind like a fragile, tender shoot amidst a garden of weeds. 

It's a promise to himself, not just to live and survive, but to thrive.

 

Day 7

_Just got in. Ben slept the whole drive, lucky bugger. See you around 6?_

"I'm not even late," he says when she opens the door. 

"Yeah, it's a bloody miracle," she replies, and walks into his arms, putting hers up around his neck.

He almost drops the wine.

But he doesn't; he holds onto the bottle as well as her, tight as he can. It's miracles all round, this evening. 

He feels her sigh against his neck. He breathes in the smell of her hair, his cheek resting on the crown of her head, and then looks up to see Ben giving him a wave from the kitchen doorway. 

"Hi Tony!"

He lifts a hand to wave back as Alex turns. "Ben, can you finish setting the table please?"

The boy disappears and Alex turns back, still in the circle of his arms because he hasn't quite let go of her yet, though perhaps he should have. She doesn't seem to mind, just looks up at him with her wide, expressive eyes that always let everyone know exactly how she's feeling - even him when he's paying attention.

Right now, he's paying attention.

Oh. _Oh._ Well then. He leans down and kisses her. For a few seconds her lips are warm and soft and smiling against his.

And then he pulls back quickly to check her reaction. Still smiling, good.

"We've never done that before," he points out.

"We've not done a lot of things before. Come on."

She takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen.


End file.
